Saturday, December 20, 2008


When one of the prostitutes passed away, the girls moped
disconsolately around the house.

"Good old Gloria," lamented one. "She could handle twenty men
a night, drink a fifth of whiskey and still have the strength
to roll five drunks."

Hearing this, one of the others burst into tears.

"Why is it," she sobbed, "that a girl has to die before
anyone says anything nice about her?"